


Accidental Proposal

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [18]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji is expecting a fight.  What happens instead is entirely... unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental Proposal

Byakuya’s face was hard so Renji didn’t even bother trying to lie. “Did I forget to mention that Kurotsuchi came sniffing around here the other day looking for his leaked Soul Record?” Renji asked. “Well, he did. And, I dug through your personal address book to send him direct to your aunt.”

Renji expected silent rage, the kind that rattled the tea tray and pushed him to the floor. Instead, Byakuya covered his face with his hand. It was an extremely emotional response and it kind of scared Renji a little bit. 

Was Byakuya so mad he couldn’t even process the emotion?

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Renji babbled guiltily. Byakuya had both hands in front of his face now, and Renji was about two seconds from summoning a healer from the Fourth. He started to reach out and then pulled back, “Is it because I went through your things? I’m sorry about that. I knew that was wrong, but, shit, Byakuya, that woman makes me crazy and I honestly didn’t figure real harm would come of it. Captain Kurotsuchi is insane, but he’s not stupid. It ain’t like he can disappear a Kuchiki matron and expect people not to notice.” When Byakuya still didn’t say anything, Renji added weakly, wishing Byakuya would pull himself together. “I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.”

Spreading his fingers, Byakuya peeked out at Renji. Was that…? Holy shit, was that a smile? “You sent a poisoner to one of the most poisonous people I know,” Byakuya said, a funny tone in his voice almost like he was holding back a laugh. “That was never going to work.”

Was that a joke? Byakuya sounded almost seriously disappointed his auntie was alive. What was going on here? “Um… huh?”

Byakuya cleared his throat and dropped his hands. His expression schooled into something far more normal. “Well, at least this explains Aunt Masama’s letter in which she claimed I’d ‘gone too far.’”

Renji sat there with his hands on his knees for several minutes, holding his breath, expecting something more. Byakuya, apparently recovered, ate his fish. Renji watched him for a while, and then ventured: “So… you’re not mad?”

“I’m terribly angry, Renji,” Byakuya said, though he didn’t sound it—not at all. “Do not interfere with my family again. They are difficult enough for me to negotiate; your bungling only adds to my burden. The last thing we needed was to add more fuel to that particular fire and you very well know it. However, my aunt did steal the Soul Record from somewhere, likely the Twelfth, so I would say she brought much of whatever happened upon herself. Now that I understand her note, I will tell her so much in my reply.”

Renji scratched a sideburn thoughtfully. He started to relax, but he was still wary. “I’m really not in trouble?”

Byakuya seemed to consider this for a long time. He sipped his tea, staring at Renji. Finally, he let out a sigh. “She’s an old woman, Renji—a civilian, I might add—who is ill-equipped to defend against a monster like Kurotsuchi. That being said, I’ve seriously considered reviving the noble practice of poisoning troublesome relatives, so I can hardly blame you.”

Oh, now Renji got the ‘joke.’ Letting out a breath, he nodded. “I’m happy to never deal with your family again. Trust me, I’m fine with that.”

Byakuya pushed a bit of fried eel around his plate. His eyes were down, inward, clearly thinking about something—family politics most likely. Now that he was sure he wasn’t in hot water, Renji scooped another serving of rice onto his plate. They were in their cozy little corner of the office, just to the side of Byakuya’s desk. Byakuya’s office always smelled of old books in a way that reminded Renji pleasantly of the Academy’s library. 

Renji couldn’t believe that Byakuya had taken that so well. He was still kind of expecting the other shoe to drop. So he was a little nervous when Byakuya spoke again. Sitting upright, Renji listened carefully.

“It’s an unfair promise, for you not to interact with my family… meddle, even,” Byakuya said slowly, thoughtfully, as if trying to untangle a larger concept. “One I can’t reasonably extract from you. Even if you were merely my adjutant and not also my lover, there’s no way you can avoid incidents with the Kuchiki, no matter how much we both might wish it.” Byakuya looked up then.

Their eyes met and Renji felt this was a very important moment. Byakuya was trying to convey something about their relationship.

A small smile quirked the edges of Byakuya’s thin lips as he continued: “How about you promise to give me a more prompt ‘head’s up’ next time you sic an amoral sociopathic torturer on a relative of mine?”

Renji snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Very well,” Byakuya said, returning in earnest to his fish. “Then, as you would say, ‘we’re good.’”

“Heh,” Renji smiled toothily, “I love it when you talk ‘dirty.’”

“Mmm,” Byakuya murmured around a sip of tea. “I’d best be careful or my family will have ammunition when they say you’re a bad influence on me.”

Barely managing to stifle a loud belch behind his hand, Renji nodded, “True that.”

Byakuya shook his head disapprovingly, but with a twinkle in his eyes. “I despair of you sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Renji smiled. “We’re making progress.”

Byakuya blinked, turning serious. “I suppose we are, at that.”

Renji nodded, giving Byakuya a few more of the salted pickles before helping himself to the last of them. He wanted to lean over the table and kiss Byakuya, but last time he did anything like that in the office, everything had gone to hell. Instead, he switched to business: “I sent over a bunch of the unseated to escort your relatives home. The bodyguard captain wanted ranking officers, but I told her she’d have to pay extra for that privilege.”

“Very good. Besides,” Byakuya said, pushing his plate aside and setting the chopsticks in their holder, “No rank means it will be impossible for anyone to feel slighted or disrespected. I’m still dealing with a feud from half a century ago that was started because someone felt they should have had the Fifteenth Seat instead of the Nineteenth. After all, ” Byakuya mimicked someone’s haughty tone, sounding surprisingly like his auntie, “’So-and-so got the Sixteenth Seat, so how could I not deserve better?’”

Renji snorted. “Yeah, and that would have all been my fault if it happened today.”

“Yes,” Byakuya agreed. “As it happens, it was mine. Hisana was dying.”

Renji frowned, “And they blame you for screwing up something so minor when that was going on? What the hell, don’t they have any sympathy?”

Byakuya glanced up. A tiny smirk played on his lips. “It wasn’t a mistake borne from the distraction of grief, Renji. I was angry. It was an intentional slight. Why do you think it’s still an issue fifty years later? I have never apologized. Nor will I. For what was said about Hisana, the man is lucky I offered escort at all.”

Renji almost asked ‘so why did you,’ but he knew the answer: family. You put up with their bullshit because they were your kin. It wasn’t like he couldn’t relate: Rukia and Seichi had caused him more heartache than anyone else, ever. “I guess I’m lucky my family is small, huh?”

Picking up his tea and finding it empty, Byakuya poured himself another bowlful. “If family is something chosen, then my family is small as well. It’s no more than Rukia and yourself,” he said with another deep, penetrating glance into Renji’s eyes.

Oh. Renji felt like an idiot for finally getting it. That had been Byakuya’s point earlier, too. He couldn’t bar Renji from dealing with family, because he thought of Renji as family.

Damn.

They really had come a long way.

Then, with a sigh, Byakuya broke their eye contact. “It’s only relatives I have a surfeit of.”

“Well, in that case, I’m just as glad I don’t have any ‘relatives,’” Renji said. 

Renji wanted to say something more, to acknowledge that he finally understood what Byakuya was trying to say, but nothing came to mind that wasn’t completely dorky or sappy. ‘You’re my family, too’ seemed inadequate. Also, it wasn’t true, not strictly speaking, anyways. It wasn’t that Renji didn’t have strong feelings for Byakuya; it was more that Renji mostly experienced ‘family’ as an older brother. Rukia would punch him for putting it that way because she’d never needed his protection in her life, but, before she’d joined the Abarai gang, his job had been to keep track of everyone.

Byakuya didn’t need anyone watching out for him.

Not like that, anyway.

Yeah, Renji got that family was about love, too. Gods knew Renji’s feelings for Rukia were about as muddled up in some nebulous sibling/romance/sexy way as you could get, but he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to lump Byakuya into that mess.

Renji knew Byakuya wanted to formalize their relationship. He’d talked about it before, even floating the idea of adopting Renji. Renji wasn’t so sure. He’d never wanted a wife… or maybe, more properly, he’d never wanted to be a husband. Not even when he thought about Rukia did Renji ever imagine lifetime promises or keeping house together or… babies.

Meanwhile, Byakuya had been super-broody lately.

The hell, there’d been all that talk about children yesterday even!

Renji didn’t know what to do about that. He’d been such a dick this morning, getting all weird about how much better at the whole kink thing Rose was, and suddenly saying ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, Kuchiki, but marriage ain’t in the cards’ apropos of nothing more than a serious look, seemed beyond the Pale asshole-ish.

But, he should probably say something. “So, um,” Renji said, staring at his plate the way that Byakuya looked at his empty tea bowl, wondering why there was never enough—especially now when he could use something to do with his hands. “I’m family, huh?”

Okay, so it was a crap salvo, but Renji hoped being open-ended would be the thing to start the conversation rolling.

Byakuya regarded Renji over his tea bowl. “Well, of course, not formally,” he said after a moment. “But in my heart.”

So, that was all this was? A declaration of something heart felt? “Oh, okay,” Renji said, feeling weirdly relieved, “That’s cool.”

“Is it? You don’t wish for anything more?”

Ah, shit. 

Deciding to try to keep his own complicated baggage off the table as long as possible, Renji turned his reply into another question, “Like what?”

Byakuya shook his head, “I don’t know. You’ve declined my offer of adoption.” Renji started to open his mouth, but Byakuya waved off his protests, “It frustrates me from the standpoint of inheritance, but I understand your pride in keeping the name you’ve made for yourself. On the other hand, I’m not sure what else there is for us. “

“Eh,” Renji shrugged. “I don’t need much to make me happy.”

Byakuya quickly schooled a smile. “Indeed. One of my favorite things about you.”

Renji chuckled, but thought to add, “What about you, though? You good with the way things are?”

“Not entirely,” Byakuya admitted. “But, it’s not as if some kind of marriage contract would make my family accept you any better. I bent the law and married Hisana. If anything, they hated her more for that.”

Renji sometimes forgot that it was against the law for Byakuya to marry someone from the Rukongai. Against the damn law. That was just fucking insane. Sometimes Renji felt like he lived in the single most backwards place in the entire universe. Why would the Vizards choose to come back to the Soul Society? They’d lived in a world where you could damn well marry who you loved no matter where they were from—hell, in some places, even two guys could get hitched.

Hey, there was an idea.

“You know,” Renji said, not quite sure what he was thinking when he offered, but it came out anyway: “We could always get married in secret, in the Human World.”

Byakuya made a sputtering sound, having swallowed his tea the wrong way. Once he got his coughing fit under control, he asked, “Did you just ask me to marry you?”

“Oh, um….” The weird thing was, the idea of eloping in the Human World kind of intrigued Renji. “I don’t know, did I?”

“I think you did.”

They stared at each other over the remains of the breakfast tray.

“Were you joking?” Byakuya asked. “That is… I didn’t think you would ever consider such a thing.”

But, Renji was considering. He was considering really hard. 

It wasn’t like he wasn’t into monogamy. Even when Renji was single and carefree, he was always a one person at a time kind of guy. He tried going with a couple of people at the same time, but he found that he was an all or nothing sort. He gave a hundred percent to whomever he was with, and trying to do fifty/fifty never worked.

It occurred to Renji that maybe the main the thing he resisted in the idea of marriage was all the expectations that came with it—all the stuff bound up in particular traditions, especially some place as hidebound and backasswards as the Seireitei. If they were free of that, if it was just standing up and saying ‘this guy, for me, for forever,’ Renji really had no problem with it. 

“I guess maybe I might be reconsidering considering,” Renji agreed cautiously. His heart was hammering in his chest, because… did he want this? He couldn’t fuck around. There was no proposing to guy like Byakuya Kuchiki and then backing out with a ‘just kidding’ a month from now. “But, okay, so if I am, then we’d have to work out what that meant. I’m not… that is, I don’t think I ever want to live at the estate with you, permanent-like.” When Byakuya looked crestfallen, Renji quickly added, “It’s not the living with you I object to, it’s just… that huge mansion. It feels weird. It’s so very much your place—your family’s place.”

“Ah, yes, that makes sense,” Byakuya nodded. “We could shop for somewhere together.” Sensing Renji’s rising panic, Byakuya put up a hand. “Later. There’s no hurry. Even if we were to marry tomorrow, we have our lives to work things out.”

Huh, yeah.

That was true enough, wasn’t it? And their lifetime could be another year or another thousand.

Renji felt himself relaxing into this idea and kind of digging it more and more. Married. To Byakuya. It would be kind of a hoot. “You going to take my name?” Renji joked.

“Not unless you take mine as well,” Byakuya said without hesitation. “I do wish you’d consider it. I want you to be taken care of in the eventuality of my death.”

“Oi, none of that now,” Renji said. “If we’re checking out, we’re doing it together, you got that?”

Byakuya smirked and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Renji said. “I should get back to the office, but can you book us a nice restaurant for tonight? If I’m going to do this, I should probably do this properly.”

Byakuya couldn’t entirely stifle a laugh. “Renji, I don’t need a ring.”

“I’m not talking about a ring,” Renji blustered. He hadn’t even thought of it, to be honest. Anyway, he couldn’t afford a damn ring. “I mean, romance. You know, with flowers and… poetry.”

“Ah,” Byakuya gave into a smile, then. “Poetry. Yes, if you’re going to propose properly, there must be poetry.” Byakuya stood up and Renji followed him. “Very well, go compose your poetry. I’ll make reservations.”

Renji left wondering what the hell he was thinking.

#

Renji spent his second shift in a kind of daze. He composed his poetry while bashing Kinjo’s head during sparring practice. Paperwork got filed and delivered, and on the way back from the First, Renji made a impulse detour to the Thirteenth.

The lake Ugendo looked over had frozen. Stiff reeds poked up along the shore. The sun shone through the ice-coated plants, illuminating their greenish cores. The lake, usually so vibrant with the peep of frogs and buzz of insects, was eerily silent, the only sound a kind of odd creaking as the water shifted beneath the ice. Wind swept over the polished surface, pushing a dusting of snow crystals at Renji’s sandaled feet. The rich, welcoming smell of wood smoke hurried him toward the hut’s main door.

Despite the cold, Captain Ukitake had his door open to the view. Renji could see the warm glow of fire. Rukia and her captain huddled near the fire pit, cupping steaming beverages in their hands. Their heads were bent together, clearly deep in conversation. 

He paused some distance from the door and knocked on a nearby beam so as not to interrupt anything private. 

“Who is it?” Ukitake called.

“It’s just me,” Renji said, poking his head around the open doorway. “Came by to see how you were doing, Rukia. And, uh, maybe ask a small favor of the captain?”

Rukia’s face drew into a deep frown. Her delicate eyebrows, so much like Byakuya’s, scrunched together. “I’m fine,” she lied, turning on one of her fake smiles. 

Renji knew that look very well. It was the same one she used to use when she said she wasn’t hungry in Inuzuri. But he never did have the heart to call her on it, not then and not now, so he just nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Good.”

Ukitake wasn’t fooled either. He’d stood up to make room around the fire for Renji and now glanced down at her with a pitying look. “I don’t know why you won’t text him. All the kids these days keep in touch that way.”

Renji shot Ukitake an incredulous look. Did he just suggest Rukia sext Ichigo? On THE SOUL PHONE? Like Urahara wouldn’t have that all over Twitter in about ten seconds flat.

Rukia shook her head. “I think he wants a clean break.”

“You think so, but you don’t know,” Renji said, coming in at Ukitake’s beckoning.

Ukitake turned away to fuss with some contraption in the corner of the large room. It was some kind of small, battery-operated or electric stovetop. A pot of hot chocolate bubbled on it. The captain poured out a cup and handed it to Renji.

Rukia frowned at the chocolate in her bowl. “I know him.”

Renji said, “Yeah, you do,” just as Ukitake agreed, “Of course you do.” 

Well, Renji thought settling down next to the warm embers, this was a bust. He should have known Rukia wouldn’t know how to talk about Ichigo. He still didn’t quite understand this ‘clean break’ thing, even though she’d told him about her plan that first day. He’d tried to tell her that Byakuya’s letters had been truly awesome and she and Ichigo could totally do something like that, but she’s snapped and said, “Too painful,” and, frankly, who was he to argue with that?

“So, um, Taicho,” Renji said, turning to Ukitake. “Speaking of Soul Phones, you don’t happen to have an extra one lying around, do you? I kind of need to talk to Urahara and it can’t wait for Soul Mail.”

Ukitake blinked at Renji over his teacup. His dark eyebrows rose. They were always such a startling contrast to his snow-white hair. “Won’t the Twelfth open a business channel for you?”

“Uh, well, it ain’t exactly business—more private-like,” Renji said, “And, Six has had a little falling out with Twelve, if you must know.”

“Oh?” Ukitake sat up straighter, like a bloodhound on the scent of good gossip.

Renji knew what he had to barter, suddenly. “If I tell you, can I borrow a soul phone?”

Ukitake waved that off like it was a given, regardless. “Of course, of course, now tell me, what on earth is Byakuya thinking getting in a dust up with Mayuri?”

“It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” Renji said. He noticed he had Rukia’s attention, too, so he explained, “And it involves that troublesome aunt of yours, Rukia.”

“Let me get cookies,” Ukitake said, almost gleefully.

#

Sometime later, Renji was standing outside Ugendo, leaning against the wall. His breath puffed in the cold air as he listened to Urahara explaining it all. 

“I’m sorry to say, Lieutenant, but adoption is the thing that’s most legal. But, if you’re really looking for something like marriage, it’s true that Shibuya ward will issue a certificate to same-sex couples. No one much recognizes them, though,” Urahara was saying. Renji could hear the fan flapping nervously on the other end of the line. “May I ask? What exactly are you hoping to accomplish? People mostly use them to get hospital visitation rights. I hate to break it to you, Lieutenant, but you’re already dead.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Renji said. “It’s just the thing of it that we want. Can you get the details on what we need to do?”

There was a long-suffering sigh and the sound of a fan snapping shut.

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Renji offered. “I know you got stuff you want from here. I could bring it to you.”

“You’ll be my ‘mule’? Done!”

#

Renji frowned at the brown kimono the temporary steward had draped over one arm. “Why isn’t my uniform okay?” Renji wanted to know. “Uniform is considered formalwear most places.”

“I believe his lordship said he would ‘not be proposed to by a subordinate.’”

“Ouch,” Renji muttered, but he could see the point in that. “You sure I still ain’t one if he’s going civilian?”

“Of course you are,” The new guy that Renji hadn’t learned the name of yet said without sympathy. “Thousands of times over. A million! But we entertain his lordship these notions, do we not?”

Renji just sighed and let this stranger dress him. At least the stylized nue Mons was cool, even if the last time he wore this stupid thing he’d ended up kowtowing to Auntie Masama. 

Maybe it was just as well to be making better memories in it.

#

When Byakuya came down the stairs, he damn near took Renji’s breath away. 

Byakuya had carefully eschewed all the Kuchiki trappings, so there was no royal blue on his clothes or kenseikan in his hair. Instead, he’d chosen a deep forest green decorated with pearlescent paintings of white egrets in flight. Undershirts of silver and gray brought out the stormy color of his eyes. His hair was an inky flow, unbound, unfettered… amazing.

Fuck all. The man was peerless.

Renji wanted to skip dinner and just scoop Byakuya up in his arms, carry him upstairs, and ravish him.

Instead, he managed to croak out a heartfelt, “Wow, look at you. You’re… wow. Gorgeous.”

Byakuya’s cheeks heated a tiny bit and he glanced away. “Thank you,” he said. “You look very handsome yourself. I’ve found a small restaurant inside the Seireitei that should suit us.”

“Oh yeah?” Renji said. He kind of wanted to offer Byakuya an arm, like a gentleman. But, if they were walking the streets of the Seireitei, he could hardly be seen all cuddled up to his captain. So, instead, he opened the door for Byakuya. Eishirō shot Renji an annoyed look for taking his job from him, but Renji ignored him. “Any place I’ve heard of?”

“It’s new,” Byakuya said. “Both Captain Unohana and Kyōraku recommended it, however.”

That was pretty divergent taste. Maybe. “So it has good beer?”

“The best,” Byakuya said. “The food is mostly… small? Apparently, it’s trying a Human World thing. Tapas?”

Renji thought hard and determined: “I don’t have a clue what that is.”

“Nor I,” said Byakuya as they stepped out into the frozen gardens of the estate. Snow clung heavily to evergreen boughs and bowed the heads of tall, dry grasses. The stone path had been swept clear. It was just wide enough for them to walk side by side. The air was chilled but the wind mild. “Shunsui tells me it’s like dim sum. Appetizers.”

“Fun,” Renji agreed, noting that Captain Kyōraku was suddenly Shunsui, like maybe they were on speaking terms and not trying to kill each other’s servants or drunkenly invade the Division. “Dim sum is kind of casual, ain’t it? We’re not too dressed up?”

Byakuya glanced at his clothes in confusion. “Dressed up? Not at all.”

Renji just shook his head at their different senses of what constituted ‘fancy.’ Byakuya turned right down the street. It was lined with high-end clothing boutiques, silks mostly. The sun set, shadows growing longer. Taverns were opening; shops closing. Restaurants geared up for the dinner rush. People swept doorways, lit lanterns, delivered goods and food. 

A passing, well-dressed family bowed deeply to Byakuya, who didn’t seem to notice them. When Renji nodded a greeting, they looked vaguely affronted by his attention. Must be minor nobility, Renji figured. The neighborhood around the Sixth seemed to attract minor families, as if they hoped living close to the Kuchiki would invest them in extra social standing via osmosis or something. 

“So… we’re on a first name basis with Captain Kyōraku again?” Renji asked, after they’d gone some distance. 

Byakuya nodded. “Apparently. He just showed up this afternoon with a parcel of Human World tea, I suppose as an apology, though he said it was a birthday gift. It was as if he decided that once my family was gone, Daisuke would be as well, and thus our troubles sorted.”

“I suppose he’s right enough,” Renji said. 

“It does the Sixth no good to have a feud with the Eighth, nor the Kuchiki with the Kyōraku,” Byakuya said. Leaving behind the fancy shops, he turned toward the Seventh’s more sedate and working class neighborhood. “It’s best to let it go.”

Renji could see the wisdom in that. Besides, Kyōraku scared the shit out of him.

When Byakuya turned another corner, down a narrow alleyway, Renji saw what must be the restaurant. A hand-painted placard had the sounds for ‘Tapas’ spelled out in Katakana. There was a queue that stretched half a block. There was a mixture of people in line: shinigami in uniform, tradesmen, and families. Renji thought he even spotted Academy blues. “Wow,” he said, “popular.”

Renji started for the end of the line, but Byakuya tugged his sleeve. “I made reservations.”

The people in line turned to watch them pass. Byakuya, being far more used to this sort of thing, kept his head high as they marched passed. Renji tugged at his hair, not embarrassed, exactly, but, at the same time, he could do without the focused, vaguely hostile attention.

Of course Byakuya got them in smoothly. The maître d’ took a look at the reservation list, saw the Kuchiki name, did a double take at both of them, but ushered them in quickly. To Renji’s surprise the maître d’ said to him, “Lieutenant Abarai, welcome! I didn’t recognize you at first.”

It was the lack of uniform, Renji was sure. Plus, his hair was down and many of his tattoos hidden. He had Zabimaru, of course, but it would be a stretch to expect the average Joe on the street to recognize the zanpakutō unreleased. “Yeah,” Renji smiled, “I’m going incognito, I guess.”

“We’re very honored to have you here,” the maître d’ said. Then, with a look at Byakuya, “You both, of course.”

Renji shared a glance with Byakuya—or, at least, tried to. Byakuya had his face composed and his eyes down. Once they were settled in a private alcove and the maître d’ had bowed away, Renji asked, “What do you suppose that was about?”

“Renji, many people admire you. Are you truly surprised?”

“Kind of…?” Renji didn’t really think of himself as someone to be “admired.” Sure, he knew that there were people who thought Zabimaru was cool—at least back when he was in the Eleventh and showing off regularly. “It’s not like I win most of my fights.”

Byakuya glanced up from the menu. “Perhaps. But your fortitude and resilience are admirable. You get back up, Renji. People like that kind of spirit.”

Renji smiled because it was clear from the snip in his tone that Byakuya was both vicariously proud and a bit jealous. 

The restaurant was set up Western-style. Even though the table was tall, Renji wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the length of his legs. He kept knocking his toes into things, until he finally stretched them off to one side. “Oh, hey, you want to hear my poetry?”

Setting down the menu, Byakuya nodded, “Very much so.”

“Roses are red, Violets are blue, I know it sounds strange, but I want to marry you.”

Byakuya’s face twitched between amusement and something deeper. Finally, he said, “That’s perfect. I accept.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as usual to Josey for the typo-ing, etc.
> 
> And, yes, I know that my timing is off, canon-wise. The Tokyo neighborhood has only just THIS YEAR made the same-sex certificates available, and the time-skip happened gods-only-knows when. But I'm fudging for the sake of story.


End file.
